


Keep Forgetting To Remember

by clotpolesonly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Laura Hale Lives, Laura is there when they find Cora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: “You look weird without pigtails.”It was a stupid thing to say, Laura knew immediately, and the sharp look Cora sent her said the same. Laura ducked her head.“Sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to—”“I haven’t worn pigtails in years,” Cora cut across her.“Right.”Because it had been years since they’d last seen each other. Since Laura had last known who her little sister was. Of course Cora didn’t wear her hair the same way she had when she was ten years old. She wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was an entirely new person. A person Laura didn’t know.





	Keep Forgetting To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> written in an hour and a half, much of which was past midnight, so beware of the potential errors befitting that time frame, lol. but i am just a sap for sister feels, and especially _these_ sister feels. so i felt compelled to write them before LHAW day 1 was (completely) over.

The night after the bank heist, Laura didn’t sleep. She had been up for about 34 hours already—_nobody _ had slept through the full moon, what with the feral rampage that had ensued, and the day had been occupied with finding a way to get Boyd back home without getting the cops involved—but no matter how exhausted she was, a restless sort of energy kept her moving, fidgeting, pacing back and forth across the empty space of the loft.

The second she stopped moving, she would start thinking. And if she let herself think, then she would remember the moment she saw her sister. Her baby sister, _ dead _ for seven years, or so she’d assumed.

How could she not have known? She was the alpha. Her betas were her responsibility. No matter the distance, she should’ve been able to _ feel _ Cora, shouldn’t she? At least enough to know that she was alive.

But she hadn’t. Not until she’d set foot in that bank vault, Derek and Scott at her back, and seen the evidence of her own failure, both as an alpha and as a big sister.

So Laura moved, because what else was she supposed to do? What was the proper protocol for finding out that her dead baby sister was now alive and grown and _ angry? _ So angry.

What Laura really wanted to do was wrap Cora up in her arms and never let go, but even after the moon’s influence had faded, Cora’s scent had been sharp and bitter and standoffish, and Laura hadn’t managed more than a hand on her cheek before Cora had pulled away.

She was sleeping now, upstairs in one of the loft’s three bedrooms, and Laura was pacing.

Derek was sleeping too; he’d managed to stay awake longer than Laura had expected, but his feat of endurance in letting Boyd and Cora take their moon-rage on out on him instead of each other had taken its toll. Still bruised and bleeding, he had set himself up at Cora’s bedside, apparently determined not to take his eyes off of her until he was convinced it was all real, but it had only been a half hour or so before he’d succumbed to his own need for rest.

He would probably need a few days to recover, the brave, self-sacrificing idiot. He probably felt like he deserved it too, knowing him. They may have made strides in the last year, but he’d been stewing in his guilt over the fire for too long to let it go so quickly, even now that he had Laura to support him through it.

He had thought Cora among the dead, just like Laura had.

Laura stopped in her tracks. Her legs were suddenly unsteady beneath her, and she leaned forward to brace herself on the back of the couch. She let her pounding head hang, shoulders hunched around her ears, and took in a deep, slow breath only to let it out just as slowly. It didn’t do much to shake the fear that, if she were to go upstairs right now, the bed would be empty and cold.

The creak of a metal stair set her heart to racing. Laura turned with a snarl on her lips, instinctive and immediate, but the way she swayed on her feet undermined the threat display.

It wasn’t warranted anyway. There was no threat here, just a vaguely familiar face twisted up in a wholly new expression of careful wariness.

“What are you doing up?”

Laura winced; her voice felt too loud, even at a whisper. It was rough, too, from hours of fighting off the tightness in her throat, the burn in her eyes, the rough thump of her heart against her rib cage.

Cora didn’t seem perturbed. No more so than she already had been, at least. She stayed where she was, halfway down the stairs, arms crossed tight over chest. Laura would’ve assumed she was just cold if not for the claws that were digging into her own arms, not quite hard enough to break skin.

“What are _you?_” Cora replied and, god, her voice was so different. It was still little girlish in all of Laura’s memories of her. “It’s 3am.”

Laura shrugged. The motion set her to swaying again, the throb in her temples reminding her forcefully of just how long she had been awake and just how trying all those hours had been. She shut her eyes tight for a moment and opened them to find Cora off the stairs, the distance between then halved. Cora’s expression remained pinched, though, and her hands stayed where they were.

Laura forced a smile, ignoring the way everything in her _ screamed _ to reach out, to close what was left of the gap and reestablish a pack bond until she could feel Cora’s presence nestled in her chest like she could Derek’s and Isaac’s and Scott’s.

“Just couldn’t sleep. No biggie.”

Cora didn’t look convinced, but then again, suspicion seemed to be her default state of being. Laura didn’t have to wonder why; she didn’t yet know where Cora had been or what had happened to her, but even what little she _ did _ know was explanation enough. Laura and Derek weren’t exactly bastions of trust and openness themselves. At least they had had each other.

After a lengthy few seconds of eyeing Laura up and down, Cora shook her head and said, “Whatever. Sit down before you fall down or something. You look like shit.”

Laura did. All at once, the full force of her tiredness hit her. Keeping her eyes open was a battle she only fought because Cora was there, shuffling barefooted toward the kitchenette to pour herself a glass of water. Closing her eyes to that sight felt like the worst kind of blasphemy.

Cora caught her looking; her face pinched a little more, but she didn’t comment on it. She did pour another glass, though, and the second ended up in Laura’s hand seemingly between one blink and the next.

Silence stretched between them like a rubber band, plucked and quivering. Cora didn’t sit, choosing instead to hover near the end of the couch, her face turned toward the wall of windows instead of her sister. She didn’t seem inclined to drink the water she’d poured for herself, but she held onto it with both hands.

“When did Derek get the beard?”

The question was quiet, but matter-of-fact. It was probably the least aggressive thing she’d said since they’d found her.

The glass was cool against Laura’s fingers, smooth and solid and soothing. She took a sip. “He’s had it a few months. Maybe six.”

Cora made a face at the window. “He looks weird.”

“You look weird without pigtails.”

It was a stupid thing to say, Laura knew immediately, and the sharp look Cora sent her said the same. Laura ducked her head.

“Sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to—”

“I haven’t worn pigtails in years,” Cora cut across her.

“Right.”

Because it had been years since they’d last seen each other. Since Laura had last known who her little sister was. Of course Cora didn’t wear her hair the same way she had when she was ten years old. She wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was an entirely new person. A person Laura didn’t know.

Laura took another drink. When she could bring herself to lift her head, she found Cora watching her. Their eyes met and held. Grown like this, Cora looked like their mother, more than Laura ever had. Especially now, staring her down like this. Their mother had never backed down from a fight either, even when that fight was against herself.

She couldn’t tell if Cora won, not really. She didn’t know her well enough to read her expression or her body language or even her scent. That was less bitter now, at least, and the claws were gone. Her bare toes curled against the cold concrete. Laura kept telling Derek they needed throw rugs in here; maybe Cora could finally convince him.

A yawn snuck up on her, forcing itself out with a whine. Laura’s eyes burned, gritty and blurry, and she rubbed at one with the heel of her palm until it focused properly again.

Slim fingers pulled the glass from her other hand and Laura was too slow to protest having it taken away. Her eyes didn’t want to stay open anymore, no matter how hard she tried to force them, but the clink of glass on metal was enough to tell her that Cora had put both cups back in the sink. It was a painfully domestic sound, one that threw her back to a time when their dad had washed the dishes every night, humming contentedly to himself as he filled the drying rack like it was a game of tetris.

In her haze, she could almost believe the hand on her shoulder was her mother’s, pushing her to lie down on the couch and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. But fate was never quite that kind and there were some people that she just couldn’t have back.

One was already more than she had ever expected anyway.

“Sleep, idiot,” Cora said. “Even alphas need rest, you know.”

A comment flitted through Laura’s drifting mind, something about _ her _ being the boss and not having to take orders from anyone, but it didn’t make it to her mouth. She just caught hold of Cora’s hand before it could retreat, holding it tight in her own.

“I missed you.”

Maybe it was too much, too soon. Maybe she had lost the right to say that when she lost track of her baby sister in the wake of their family’s death, spent seven years _ not knowing, _ let their pack bond fade and disappear. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

But the hand in hers squeezed back, just for an instant, before it pulled away. And it ran softly along Laura’s hair, like their mom had always done. And Cora’s scent, as Laura let sleep pull her under, was sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable on tumblr!](https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/187894655536/keep-forgetting-to-remember)


End file.
